|A gorgeous December sunset in Boulder City, Nevada|
In Our Words
"We are climbing mountains every day. Not the same mountain, it's a new mountain every day." ~Heidi
"She can take that gun and shove it." ~Heidi
"...And then pull the trigger!" ~Troi
Four days of driving back and forth between Boulder City and my dad's house off of Charleston were enough to convince us to spend our last two nights at the house. We were both flying out on Saturday, and we running out of time. We still had to clean out every cupboard, every closet, and every drawer. The fridge was still stocked full of food from two days before Thanksgiving. Rusty's insulin supplies were still sitting on the kitchen counter. We were stepping into my dad's life and taking over from where he left it.
We spent the morning at the condo in BC plowing through the stacks of papers, folders, and binders that we had taken out of the house. I woke up every morning faced with the enormous burden of responsibilities associated with the trust. My mind was racing with details. It was taking all of my organizational skills and experience to prioritize our daily tasks. What needed to be done first? On the one hand, my dad had been dead for just over a week, and I hadn't begun to make phone calls. On the other hand, there was the physical labor of getting the house in order. And, only three more days to get it all done.
We were climbing mountains every day.
The First Supper
We finally got out of BC around 2 p.m. The route that was most familiar to me was I-515 to Tropicana, then over the Strip. It was the same route I used to take when I drove out to see my grandma Pearle at the assisted living facility in Vegas, which was close to my dad's house. The lights and the grandeur of the Strip were oddly comforting. It was like Disney World, Vegas-style, and it was nice to see people enjoying themselves.
We got to the house and worked like maniacs until 8 o'clock when we finally ran out of steam and decided to raid my dad's fridge. Mmm, frozen enchiladas and a turkey dinner! And, a nice bottle of Chardonnay from my wine cooler in BC.
Where would we sleep?
We were each going to take a guest room, but the mattress on one of the beds was a concrete slab, apparently. It felt like it, anyway. It was a hard as the dining room table. My dad had broken his pelvis four years ago in a dirt biking accident, and I think that the guest bed was where he slept when his back bothered him. I had no interest in sleeping in the master bedroom. We had already stripped his bed and flipped the mattress, which was still in good shape. The big Jacuzzi tub and the double vanity were calling to Heidi, so she found some clean floral linens and made up the bed.
The practicality of spending the night there forced us to get over any remaining discomfort associated with his room. We had to find someplace comfortable to sleep.
I brought out two feather pillows and clean pillowcases from BC, and they matched the linens beautifully. We untangled the cables and moved the clunky TV onto the floor next to the closet. The desk had been cleared off earlier that day, and Heidi had bagged up all of my dad's clothes for donation. The room had undergone a transformation during the afternoon from his bedroom to a lovely, uncluttered master suite.
In a closet stuffed with old, outdated grungy sheets and comforters, I found a new unopened twin-size Waverly sheet set! I'm pretty sure that my fairy godmother left it. Floral, of course, and a comforter to match. I had been doing laundry and working in the guest rooms all day, so the two guest bedrooms got a makeover, as well.
Clean, refreshed and updated, the house was becoming ours.
We went to bed around Midnight exhausted, but gratified. It felt like we had conquered another mountain that day. We were planning one day at a time, based on what we were able to accomplish the day before. We realized that we needed another whole day and night to finish up the house. So, we decided to stay until Friday when my mom could come out and pick up the extra food.
Thanks for not buying a Thanksgiving turkey, Dad!